


only in my darkest moments (i wanna see you with your head wide open)

by the_astronomer



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Found Family, Gen, God Complex, Hallucinations, Mentions of other dsmp characters, Purgatory, Resurrection, Songfic, absolutely bonkers, but its Found Fuckup, dream is fuckin nuts ur honor, for the sake of time, i know tommy said it felt like 2 months in there but we’re making it like a few seconds, i think, i think??, its the void yaknow, like good for him but wtf!!, maybe a few minutes, no beta we die like tommy, not quite hell n shit, tags to be added question mark?, this mf playing god!!, tommy sees some shit, wilbur and tommy are brothers ur honor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:27:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29895603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_astronomer/pseuds/the_astronomer
Summary: tommy doesn’t know if he passed out or not, but one moment he’s alone in the second void, the next he feels a light nudge to his side, a lump being tossed at him and his bleary eyes opening to the slight dripping of the crying obsidian landing on his forehead.the heat of the lava is almost comforting.”are you awake yet?”tommy groans and his eyes immediately screw shut, waving his arms to shoo dream away, flipping him off in the process. his arms don’t feel broken anymore, at least...wait a minute.(alternatively: dream finds out that resurrectionispossible. and tommy’s not allowed to leave the cell without some added trauma to his psyche.alternatively alternatively: the author got carried away and decided to toss tommy through the ringer and see what different afterlife scenarios they can come up with lol)
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 1
Kudos: 39





	1. come on, don’t be hasty

**Author's Note:**

> empty on the ground, gone without a sound  
> just another white elm growing at the end of town
> 
> -
> 
> [title inspo / this december, ricky montgomery](https://open.spotify.com/track/3gjRRs7gmh3Euynu1cau1d?si=c1PJ_BvTRIGy9wkNmi3R4w)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [it’s been sixty weeks since i saw vienna / a bandage and a wide smile slapped across my face](https://open.spotify.com/track/0tPAksKbZTl8VLslZErQnE?si=pJ4bAajZRa-Y8s1NDRy0Bw)

tommy knows what death is like to some extent. i mean, fuck, dude, he’s died twice already. he just didn’t expect the last one to go out to a dumb bitch with a god complex and an unnecessary amount of potatoes.

the same dumb bitch with a god complex that just so happened to take his other two lives at that.

his head hurts and he can’t see out of his right eye.

one moment he’s feeling himself fade out on the obsidian ground and watching the wall of lava half illuminate dream’s face almost unnaturally. the mask he always wore was half charred and cracked on the ground, a generous splatter of blood on it. tommy doesn’t remember if that’s his or dream’s. it’s probably his own.

the next he’s blinking slow, grunting at the throbbing headache he’s having. why’s the void so fucking bright? when you think of the void you would think you’d be shrouded in darkness or some bullshit like that.

his hands feel around, eyebrows furrowing and cloudy eyes focusing on nothing as he felt some form of solidity under his fingertips. like a floor, almost. the same hands pick up the pace frantically, swiping behind himself and wincing as his arm smacks against an invisible wall. his arm is probably broken, tommy only just realizes how limp it feels.

he shakes his other arm. it’s not as painful, so he uses it to hoist himself up, just to get his back on the wall. would it even be considered a wall?

a hand reaches up to at least fix his hair, pulling it away almost immediately at the feeling of uncomfortable wetness. awh, there’s the blood! not as red as it’s supposed to be, though. it’s got more of a purple tone to it. it’s probably a similar case with ghostbur, with his blood being blue because of friend and all.

tommy doesn’t care about why his blood doesn’t look like blood right now, he just needs to figure out where he is and where to find somebody. this is where the dead people are, right? surely he could find wilbur or schlatt or _someone_.

he needs to get up and look.

one hand, both hands helplessly paw at the wall before getting some semblance of a grip, hoisting himself up with a whimper and forcing his legs to hold up the rest of his broken body.

there‘s purple blood smeared on the ground, small puddles forming with the blood that continues to drip from tommy’s face.

“that’s disgusting.”

tommy tenses up at the sound his own voice, hearing it bounce off invisible walls and floors to nobody else’s ears but his own. it’s got a slight rasp. raspy from the several screaming matches with dream, from calling out for sam, for phil. calls that wouldn’t be answered lest it’s when somebody picks up his corpse from the cell.

would anybody even miss him once they find out?

tommy shakes his head at that, both to rattle the thought out of his head and to answer his own question.

he doesn’t trust himself to leave the wall but he takes a hesitant step forward anyway, taking a sharp breath as a prickle of pain shoots up his leg. he grits his teeth, taking another step, forcing his arms to launch off the wall and to wobble out in front of himself, grunting.

this hurts like a bitch, god damn.

his good hand goes to hold his bad arm, starting to finally get a move on. one foot drags behind himself in a limp, the tattered sneaker squeaking against the floor as he wanders aimlessly. the blood continues to drip.

he’s half convinced he was about to pass out while walking when he hears a garbled voice, flinching at how fucking _loud_ it was for no reason. tommy lifts his head, narrowed, bleary eyes looking around and desperate to find the source when they spot a foggy figure a few meters up ahead.

at least it’s somebody.

tommy forces his legs to hobble quicker, calling out desperate hello’s and asking for names when the fog seeming to separate the two finally clears.

wilbur’s back is to him. his tattered exile jacket clinging to it almost desperately.

the garbled voice returns and wilbur’s the source, tommy only having one hand to cover one ear to try and lower the volume before it wracks at his brain and breaks it.

”wil, stop fucking with me.” tommy huffs, whatever shock he had at rediscovering his brother melting away, slinging his limp arm at wilbur’s side. “it’s tommy, look behind you.”

wilbur doesn’t budge.

tommy wrinkles his face at that, his good hand peeling off his ear and scratching at the scarring on his face, trying to move around to face wilbur, if wilbur isn’t going to face him.

the stupid void stops him again, his cheek smushing up against it like a window.

”oh, are you fucking kidding me—“

“ _ **t̷̙̤͈̣̬̄͑͌͒o̶͔̖̲̪̼͗͊͊̏̀͠m̶̪̀m̶̨͍̈́͗̎̀̓y̴̝̤̦̲͛̈́̆̃̅**_ ”

he jumps, eyes darting to wilbur, still unable to see his face. his eyes dart around the empty space, trying to find out where the _fuck_ this voice is coming from. he can hear it from wilbur’s body, yeah, but it’s sure as shit isn’t his _voice_. he’s lived long enough around him to know that. 16 years— ..16 years, 10 months and some pocket change for days may be short to phil but tommy’s been on this bitch of an earth long enough.

wilbur suddenly moves next to him. turning his body to face the younger.

tommy immediately looks over and stumbles back, eyes widening at the sight of wilbur’s face. or, lack of one. it’s garbled like the voice. a void of opposite color to their surroundings. glitching in and out of existence and the stupid fucking mocking smile that’s a perfect match to the one on dream’s mask.

tommy suddenly remembers why he hates the color green so much. (lime green, specifically.)

”i can’t even fucking escape you when i’m dead, _fantastic_.” his voice cracks and squawks, stumbling backwards and collapsing under his own weight. his legs can’t hold him up anymore. it hurts and tommy’s half convinced he broke another bone just by the impact.

or maybe it’s the weird ass green glowing strings tripping him, tying his ankles down to the ground.

whatever this version of wilbur is, it’s getting closer and tommy can’t scoot backwards, the strings are getting a grip on his arms, his wrists. some of his fingers, even. like a puppet.

wilbur crouches in front of tommy and for the briefest moment his familiar face flashes through and it makes tommy want to cry. his dark eyes are kind and warm, his expression concerned.

tommy’s back to a few years ago, maybe a good decade. phil’s off with techno in the nether for a few weeks and tommy’s been left behind with wilbur watching over him. tubbo’s not in the picture yet. they’re only 6 and 14 here.

_”i can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong, toms.”_

_he sits on the front steps of the little cabin they lived in, the one tommy doesn’t even remember at this point. he held his legs close to his little body, chin resting on a knee. he doesn’t even remember why he’s crying. it’s probably because he missed dad._

_wilbur’s crouched in front of him, wings too big for his wiry body poked out from his back. the coloring reminds tommy of owls. the big brown ones that bother techno when he tries to sleep. it’s only techno, they don’t know why._

_wilbur put a comforting hand on the open knee, which caused the little one to look up, eyes teary and puffy while his face started to grow blotchy on the sides._

_”if, uh-..” wilbur hesitated. he was never the best with words growing up. ironic how quickly that changed. “i don’t know why you’re all sad and stuff, but if it’s because of dad not being here, well-..”_

_tommy tilted his head, sniffling up grossly. wilbur couldn’t help but chuckle at that, using his free hand to start to rub the tears off. “if it makes y’feel better, at least you have me, right? i don’t think i’m going anywhere anytime soon.”_

_tommy could only smile weakly, nodding._

he blinks hard, not even realizing he was crying. wilbur’s hand is on his cheek, trying to wipe both the tears and the blood away and tommy leans into it desperately. this is probably the first affectionate touch he’s received since.. god, maybe when he hugged tubbo when they got the discs? no, it had to be sooner than that. ..sam? was it sam?

the glitching is minimal now. the strings are only tighter on his skin.

”i just wished you took longer.”

that’s the voice tommy’s familiar with. and he laughs. a sobbing, broken laugh, but it’s a laugh.

there’s a string starting to wrap around his neck, it’s pull suddenly tight and causing tommy to gag for air. writhing to try and escape. which is unfortunate, it just makes the hold tighter.

he tries to tug as hard as he can but the strings just work harder against the friction, pulling him under the invisible flooring like it’s water. head breaking through the opposite end like he’s drowning, gasping and coughing.

the other side is the exact opposite of the void tommy was just in. it’s more what he was expecting when he first showed up. dark. suffocatingly dark.

tommy doesn’t know if he passed out or not, but one moment he’s alone in the second void, the next he feels a light nudge to his side, a lump being tossed at him and his bleary eyes opening to the slight dripping of the crying obsidian landing on his forehead.

the heat of the lava is almost comforting.

”are you awake yet?”

tommy groans and his eyes immediately screw shut, waving his arms to shoo dream away, flipping him off in the process. his arms don’t feel broken anymore, at least.

..wait a minute.

his eyes open hesitantly and looks to the left, baby blue meeting with vibrant green (a little too vibrant, tommy thinks. eyes aren’t supposed to shine like that, not in the dark), darkened hair and a maniacal smile.

this is probably the first time tommy has seen dream without his mask on in maybe a year. or several.

speaking of, there’s a book in dream’s hands. there’s blood stains on the cover and the pages, and for a split second tommy swears he can see the strings retreating back into them.

”so!” he chips, haphazardly tossing the book to the side and making an audible thump against the chest. “how was death?”

”now why the fuck would i tell you that?”

”because you’re the only one in this server that’s lost all their cannon lives and come back, silly.”

tommy cringes at the nicknames.

he forces himself to stand on shaky legs, though it’s a billion times less painful than what it felt like in _there_. he rubs his arms, furrowing his brow at the lack of marks from whatever the _string_ was.

his mouth moves before his brain can tell him to keep it shut, before his brain can tell him not to tell dream a damn thing.

”well-.. i was bleeding a fuck ton from what you did to me.”

dream cocks his head to the side curiously, leaning on the lectern and glancing at the clock on the wall.

”did you feel anything?”

”i was in pain the whole time, thanks for that.”

dream smiles, the scar on his lip bending with the creases. “you’re welcome. did you see anybody? hope you saw schlatt like i told you to.”

tommy’s body seizes up at that, and dream picks up on it, eyebrows lifting and hiding in his hair. he leans forward slightly, and though he’s across the room tommy can’t help but shrink backwards and press up against the wall.

he fumbles over his words and attempts to come up with a believable lie. or at least half of one. he wants to keep the one good memory he has of wilbur in recent history to himself just a little longer.

”i-..” he hesitates. dream’s still staring. “..i saw you. not-.. not _you_ you, but, your mask. your fucking mask. the little—“ tommy shakes his hands, gesturing at nothing. “the stupid fucking smile! that thing! it was some sorta entity where it glitched in and out of nothing and it was fucking _weird_!”

dream leans back again, tommy can’t tell if he’s satisfied with his answer as he’s looking over at the book.

tommy points at it. “..was that the thing that revived me?”

”awh, c’mon now, i deserve some credit.” dream snatches it up, leafing through the tattered pages. “but it did, to some extent, yeah. i honestly thought it wasn’t going to work.”

tommy gave him a look, holding onto his arms just a little tighter. he _could_ still be dead right now and honestly he probably prefers _that_ over this.

”but don’t you see, toms?” tommy hates the nickname when it comes out of dream’s mouth. “it works! i could bring people back if i wanted to!” his eyes flash again in the darkness, shining against the lava. the lighting makes a fractured halo around his hair. “anybody!”

tommy squawks as dream grabs the collar of his shirt, his eyes wide and his grin wider. the book’s scattered on the floor again. “i’m essentially god in a mortal body! i could study death over and over and _over_ and whose to stop me?”

”you’re insane.” tommy hisses out, hands grabbing at dream’s wrist to try and tug him off. panic rises with his body as dream lifts him off the ground. he forgets how strong this prick is.

”so why not start with you, first?”


	2. why were you digging? what did you bury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [before those hands pulled me from the earth?](https://open.spotify.com/track/57V4uc2b2diZ4RPHXWecb9?si=eBcCjNuDSRCS2T53zozS1Q)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi ignore how i already used like real people do for [a whole oneshot](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29360916) (will i ever stop plugging the fic?? eventually because there’s another one in the works i prommy) on its own i just wanted to link it with the single bugs and the dirt bit near the end

the next time tommy opens his eyes he’s staring at the sky. the sunlight is warm on pale skin and he squints. it’s bright, but not-... _void_ bright.

his head doesn’t hurt and there’s no blood to struggle to see past. nothing out of the ordinary.

his eyes shut slowly, breathing out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding in. his hands shuffle around. grass. moss, maybe. or maybe it’s just really soft dirt. he does hear the rustling of leaves not far ahead, he’s probably at the edge of a forest.

he goes to hold himself when he senses an extra weight above him, grunting and opening his eyes reluctantly to be met with feathers. wings. _wings._

tommy scrambles, arms sticking out in front of himself and standing up with haste, trying to look behind, trying to look at his back. he get glimpses of the coloring, faded blond that matches his hair melting into off-white with dashes of brown here and there.

he gets dizzy trying to chase after them like a dog with its tail, the world he was in blurring together in a mass of colors before having the willpower to shake his head to clear it.

a flower biome. an oak forest not too many meters ahead.

there’s a small cluster of bees getting their pollen and minding their own business.

tommy looks up and squints, shielding his eyes. the sun doesn’t seem to move from its place, locked in and stagnant. there’s no day-night cycle here. not in this afterlife, at least.

he doesn’t remember if dream killed him three times or once, and frankly he doesn’t give a shit. he honestly prefers this over whatever life has going for him right now.

he takes a look at the wings again and vaguely remembers what phil said when he was watching him teach wilbur. find somewhere high, land somewhere soft. water will backlog but you won’t suffer from fall damage.

“find somewhere..” tommy’s voice trails off quietly and dies in his throat before he can even finish as he looks around, eyes lighting up as he spots a cliff not far up ahead. brief inventory check, he’s surprised that’s even possible here, even more so when he spots the hay bales.

whatever, he’s dead anyway. might as well enjoy this afterlife while he still can.

he feels lighter on his feet out here, setting up his cushion before he climbs. the view is incredible but tommy bets it’s even better up there.

and it is. after a few test flights, at least. it takes a few crashes as he tries to remember what he was told, but tommy’s fingers are soon holding onto the clouds for the briefest moments before re-entering the atmosphere in a nose dive.

this is the first time tommy smiles without pain or tears involved in weeks, maybe. he doesn’t know the rate of time passage here compared to out there.

this is the first time he shouts just to shout, wings spread wide as he changes his angle, soaring over foliage and his shadow casting over the leaves. he stays like that for a while, closing his eyes and feeling the wind on his face before positioning himself to land on his feet.

he doesn’t know how far he’s gone before he spots spruce, the slightest dusting of snow mixing with sand by a pond that’s probably knee-length for him. there’s a cabin. _the_ cabin.

“does phil still live here?” tommy murmurs under his breath, walking slow as he approaches and hiding within the tree-line, poking a head out to see if there’s any movement.

phil’s in the doorway watching wilbur and techno banter, small wooden swords that are half their sizes clunking against each other. wilbur looks no older than 7. that would make techno at _least_ 4, and yet they’re both almost the same height.

tommy may suck at quick math but this has to be before he was in the picture. or just shortly after.

there’s something within him that just wants to step out so _bad_ , just to say hello, just to have the chance to be taller than techno, just to see what phil was like until tommy came in later on and flipped it on its head.

and for a split second he _was_ before he feels the string on his arms again, tugging him back and forcing him to come in contact with pine needles and mud, yelping.

this time was less suffocating than the last, his body becoming one with the bugs and the dirt more quickly than it was in the void, his eyes opening and meeting the obsidian floors and dream’s face in record time. it looks more fucked up the last time tommy saw him. not even physically, just-.. psychologically.

“hi again!”

tommy huffs.

hopefully death will be less painful this time around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i got carried away and wrote this in like 2 hours lol. might make this a littol project..... just to see how many scenarios i can squash in before i get bored and lose motivation......

**Author's Note:**

> lol u know specifically verse 3 of this december by ricky montgomery. now add my newfound dsmp brainrot to it. AND tommy’s march 1st and 4th streams. this gets spat out!  
> i know this thing has probably been written to death (haha get it because tommy died) already but. lemme have my fun  
> i don’t know if major character death qualifies seeing how tommy gets revived but. just in case ecks dee  
> also lowkey based around some drawings i’m making...... will i show u them? ....no because if people connect the dots i don’t want those mfs finding out i’ve written joshler and crankiplier fics on here ([which](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28711431) [you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28837521) [can](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29214150) [read](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29360916) if ur into that btw pspsps)  
> i still don’t know wtf goin on dsmp wise please bear with me here. Please


End file.
